You Just Have To Carry On, Princess
by missyme48
Summary: Effie finally cracks and it's Haymitch who finds her drunk.


**A/N: **Hello everyone! This is my first Hunger Games fic so enjoy!

The girl wrapped her arms around Effie's waist. She wasn't meant to but she hugged her back, stroking the girl's dark blonde hair. She was breaking her own rule, the one she had put in place after her first Games as escort when she had watched her first pair of tributes die, to never get too close. It was different with Karensa. She was only thirteen, much too young for this, but she hadn't cried once unlike the boy who hadn't stopped. She had accepted her fate with a strength that was beyond her years. On the train Karensa had stayed with her in the dining cart and she had been so amazed by the macaroons that Effie had even let her have one before dinner.

Now she was sending her to her death. Effie pushed her to arm's length, not unkindly, and smiled the best smile she could manage. It wouldn't do the girl any good to see her cry. She took one long last look at her before reaching behind her and unclasping her necklace. It was an amethyst pendant on a silver chain. She fastened it around Karensa's neck.

"It can be your token, "Effie told her and smoothed out the creases on the girl's shoulders. "I'll see you soon."

"And may the odds be ever in my favour," Karensa said doing her best to imitate Effie's accent. Normally, she would've lectured that making fun of people was the height of bad manners but she knew the girl hadn't meant it nastily. Besides, she was going to die very soon, who was Effie to take away her last few moments of fun?

"That's right dear. Now, chop, chop, we can't leave the people waiting. Being late is very un-mannerly."

When they reached the lobby of the Tribute Centre, Effie handed her over to a Game attendant. She watched her leave, knowing she would never her again, and returned to the penthouse. In the silence, she could her heart cracking and she poured herself a drink. In her mind she could hear Haymitch's gruff voice telling her, "It was about time." He wasn't there though and, for once, she was glad he wasn't doing his job. If he had seen the way she acted with Karensa, it would have just lead to another fight.

He always hated when she treated the tributes like people instead of just lambs for the slaughter and he always got angry at her for crying when they died. He told her that she wouldn't be so upset if she stopped caring. Effie wasn't him though; she couldn't just stop caring like it was a switch to be turned on and off.

She had never been interested in the violence watching the Games when she was growing up. All that had fascinated her was the fashion; the costumes for the opening ceremony and the dresses and suits of the interviews. When she applied for a job in the Games, she had applied for the job of a stylist, not the job where she sentenced innocent children to death. But once you were in, you were never out and when she was offered the job as escort she knew there was no refusing. It was a gilded cage; the clothes and the parties almost made you forget you were imprisoned.

She drank the glass of whiskey she had poured in one swallow and seeing nothing better to do to pass the time until the games begin, she drank some more. The alcohol burned her throat in a strange sensation but she liked it, it was liked drinking fire. Pouring herself another, she finally understood why Haymitch was so taken with the stuff. It truly was wonderful. An hour later Karensa was dead, after being set upon by the male tribute from District One, and so was the boy. Haymitch still hadn't come back, so Effie drank some more. By the time he returned, she had finished the whiskey, the pain had dulled, and the room was beginning to spin.

"Woah, princess, how much did you drink?"

Effie looked at him and then back to the bottle on the glass coffee table. She opened her mouth to talk but a sob escaped her throat instead of an answer to his question. He rolled his eyes but crossed the room to sit beside her. He could tell what was after happening; it was the same thing that always happened except Effie never got drunk. She buried her head where his neck met his shoulder and kept crying. Not really knowing what else to do, he awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

It was times like these; he didn't know how she got a job as an escort. All the other escorts never treated their tributes with respect and when they died, they returned to their parties like nothing had happened. Effie was different. Her heart was big, maybe a bit too big and even though it was nice to see other people except the mentors care for the tributes he knew it would ultimately lead to her downfall. The games only worked if the Capitol citizens didn't see the tributes as human.

"Alright, princess, let's get you sobered up n, shall we," he said to her after she had calmed down a bit. Standing up, he grabbed her arm and dragged her to her room. He closed the door after him and, with great difficulty, managed to get her out of her dress and take her wig off . She didn't reprimand him for his indecency and he realised just how drunk she must be. He left her in her underwear and placed her under the cold shower, like she had been doing for him for years. Oh, what pathetic pair they must seem. It was no wonder why Twelve never got sponsors, who would want to give money to a constant drunk and the escort who was more like his personal babysitter?

He kept her under the stream of water for five minutes despite her protests of being cold before turning it off and handing her a towel. Most of her make-up had come off and he realised just how pretty she was under all that crap she insisted on putting her face. Her hair was nice shade of blonde and he wondered why she hid it under those grotesque wigs; but it wasn't the time for that. "You should get some sleep. I'll call you in a few hours," he told her and turned to leave. Her broken voice stopped him.

"Would it be improper of me to ask you to stay?"

It probably was highly improper and she would probably regret it in the morning but Haymitch didn't care. He had been like her before and he wished he had had someone. He shrugged his shoulders and sat on her bed, his back against the headboard. She emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, face still make up free and hair still out of the wig but she had let it down from the bun it was in. She settled herself under the covers and rested her head on his chest. His arm went around her.

"Why'd you do it, princess?"

He felt Effie tense up beside him and for a long moment he thought she wouldn't answer, which was fine by him. She had been asking him the same question for years and he'd never given her a straight answer. They both had their demons.

"I got too close and then I watched her die. It seems you were right after all, getting involved isn't worth it."

He held her tighter. "I'm not always right, sweetheart."

"But you were this time," she reiterated. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that sweetheart," he said. He held her at arm's length. "Not even for my sake but yours. If Snow ever heard you talking like that…"He trailed off, not wanting to think what Snow would do. "The point is, you're here now, so tomorrow and the day after that and at next year's reaping and at every reaping after that you're going to smile and you're going praise the Games and the Capitol to high heavens because that's what you do, do you hear me?"

Effie nodded meekly but didn't say anything. She laid her head back on his chest and he put his arm around her again. "You just have to carry on, princess," he told her, as she drifted off to sleep. "You just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other."

When he put it like that, it almost sounded easy.


End file.
